Late last year, I wrote a poem entitled Our Beautiful World. Well, I tried revising it, and friends in my writing group told me I really had a second poem, not a revision of the first one. So I worked on it, and wrote it up, and here it is (minus a new title):
World destroyers infest the blue green jewel.
Vastnesses beyond ken of water,
Mountains of sand and sky,
Every empty space full of cast-offs.
The lovely little jewel clouds up, weeping.
She swarms with worms, scraping her away,
Fouling her body.
The other animals flee.
A bell rings sweet. Some scrapers glance skyward.
From the clouds descends a shimmering
Winged woman, saying,
Arise, you crawling lizard sons!
Arise! She taps the skyward peering ones.
Writhing, they moan, slipping their old, dry
Skins. Out of the dust
Rise sparkling ones, stretching bright wings.
Clouds scatter and the sun glimmers softly.
The jewel ceases to weep. Animals slip
Softly from hiding.
The shining jewel has new champions.